


Pyrite Prince

by Syrum



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Emperor Hux, Fic Exchange, Hux POV, Kissing, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, knight Kylo, kylux 2016 fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylux Fic Exchange entry for Aimelle.</p><p>The war is over, Hux has been crowned as Emperor, he has Kylo by his side and has been handed everything he ever could have dreamed of...yet something is still missing.</p><p>You never truly know what you have got, until it's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyrite Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimelle/gifts).



> The prompt;
> 
> Kylo/Hux, somehow the first order wins, Snoke is deaded or out of the picture anyway, EMPEROR HUX, and maybe it's a little confusing to have won, maybe it's hard to have a vision for peace when you've been at war all your life, perhaps it feels strange to finally get what you wanted — Kylo is still with the First Order because of the Snoke conditioning / finishing the training post TFA, so he's probably not super ok, and probably 1000x more confused. a lot of confusion. but mainly emperor Hux.

It was lonely, at the top. Hux couldn’t recall precisely who had said that to him, or when, or even why an individual might have felt the need to voice such a thing, but he had recently come to realise just how true it was. He recalled a woman’s voice; his mother? No, impossible, she had died too many years ago, and he barely recalled her face, much less the soothing lilt of her voice.

Yet, still the thought remained, his only companion in the cavernous and empty throne room. He had gone there to think, propped himself up in the enormous chair that only Hux himself was permitted to sit upon, and wondered if perhaps the floor might have been a better choice of seat. The silence was piercing, his breathing seeming to echo in the large, dark expanse. He had not bothered to activate more than a scant handful of the lights overhead; why would he? No one else was there, no one needed to actually see him, and there was nothing of interest in the room to cast his own eye upon anyway.

It should have been glorious, his rise to the top. Instead, it simply felt as though he had been deposited on his throne and then left there, out of sight and out of mind. His word was law, and anything he decreed would come to pass, yet there was an emptiness to it and Hux found that he had begun to bitterly resent the position he had been handed, that he had _wanted_ , desired his whole life.

But had he, though? Thinking back, what had started as idle boasts at the Academy had become something of a mantra, one that his own father had insisted on repeating to him until he believed it himself, and wasn’t it Brendol Sr who had put the idea there to begin with? Had this been his father’s doing the whole time, after all? It wouldn’t surprise him; he had heard precious little from the man in the years up to their final victory and his coronation, yet as soon as Snoke had fallen - at the hand of the scavenger from Jakku no less - he had crawled out of the woodwork, citing rules he needed passing and powers he wished to be granted. Hux had, of course, complied - to a point. The man _was_ his father after all.

“You’re thinking again.” He might have jumped, if not for the fact that he was so used to Ren’s presence by now. Footsteps echoed across the throne room, silent until he had spoken, and if it bothered Hux that his knight had chosen to remain unseen, watching, he did not show it.

“I spend a great deal of time thinking, Lord Ren. I would have thought you might be used to it by now.” He had been picking at his nails, a bad habit, but stopped as he glanced up to regard the taller man. In the three years since Starkiller, since the girl had given Ren his scar, the Force-user hadn’t seemed to age much. His hair was as black as ever, longer now and tied back in a loose plait to keep it from his face. He had tried to replace the mask lost upon the base that fateful day, but none fit quite so well, and eventually he discarded it altogether. The starts of lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, and Hux knew his own mirrored much the same; too much planning, too much stress, and the terror of knowing his knight might not return to him, _wouldn’t_ if Snoke had his way.

But, Snoke was dead, and Kylo was still at his side. Besides, he was Emperor now, he was allowed to age. With age came wisdom, and he hoped he lived long enough to see the grey start to grow through at his temples as it had with his father.

“I am, but you have been projecting of late. Is everything...are you alright?” Ren’s show of care was only marginally more surprising than his unannounced appearance, and Hux allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch up in a fond smile. Ren had stopped only a foot or so away, waiting, and as Hux reached out for the man he knelt. It might have been a show of fealty, if not for the way Hux gathered his knight between his spread knees, carding his fingers through Ren’s hair, pulling sections loose from the braid. He could feel the man’s breath, hot against his leg through the overly fanciful breeches he had been provided with, temple pressed to his thigh.

“We won.” Hux replied simply, and his fingers did not stop their slow, languid path through Ren’s surprisingly soft locks. He hit a snag, carefully working through it, until it was as smooth as the rest. He could feel the way Ren relaxed against him, eyes fluttering closed against his lap, the soothing sensation coming in waves off the Force-user, sinking into him and pulling a low sigh from the Emperor.

“You only just realised?” Kylo chuckled, the sound vibrating against his thigh and making him shiver. Hux stilled his hand and Ren’s eyes blinked open, staring up quizzically. He half expected the familiar warmth at the back of his mind, of Kylo plucking the information he wanted directly from Hux’s consciousness, yet it did not come.

“It was too easy.” With a hum, Hux bent to press his nose into Kylo’s mane of dark curls, breathing in the scent of the other man. Fruit, with a hint of musk, and Kylo had not once changed his shampoo in the years they had known one another. “How did we actually manage to win?”

“You believed we would fail?” He did not sound surprised, and in fact Hux was certain Ren had already skimmed through his thoughts on the matter months prior, or perhaps before then. He wasn’t certain when, precisely, he had begun to doubt the workings of the First Order and the underlying scheming of Snoke, and yet not once had his loyalty wavered. It was not, in fact, until the coronation itself that Hux realised he had never truly been loyal to the First Order at all.

He was loyal to himself. Loyal to the ideals he carried, that he had believed - falsely, it seemed - the Order had carried as well. Loyal to _Ren_.

“I don’t know.” Hux admitted finally, letting the man pull back, thankful that Kylo’s large hands remained on his thighs, squeezing gently. “I certainly hadn’t expected to live through it, whether we won or not.” A blaster bolt to the back had almost seen to that, scarcely a month before Snoke’s demise and the end of the war. It had been touch and go for a while, but the First Order medics were some of the best in the known universe, and Ren had ensured none harmed him while he healed.

“I would not have allowed anything to happen to you.” He hadn’t missed the wince, felt the gentle tendrils in his mind and reached out to touch them, pulling them in further, like a security blanket. Ren had felt him fall, back then, sending back a stream of fury and unbridled fear over their link as he raced back to where he had left Hux, supposedly safe, cutting down friend and foe alike as he fought to reach his fallen lover. The trooper who had fired the blaster was already long dead, and Hux had slipped into unconsciousness before Kylo could reach him. 

He still blamed himself, had done so near-constantly since that day, for leaving Hux to the supposed safety of his masked Stormtrooper unit. Masks so easy to hide behind, weapons so simple to fire, and even a novice could not have hoped to miss at that distance. Nothing Ren could have done would have prevented it, and yet still the guilt flowed from him in waves, even after so long.

“Not even if Snoke had commanded it?” Hux regretted asking almost as soon as the words left his mouth; Kylo tensed, expression shuttering for a moment and the hands upon his thighs clenched tight enough to leave bruises, their grip only loosening when Hux made a small noise of pain.

“He did.” The words were so quiet he almost didn’t catch them, even in the quiet of the throne room. Hux went rigid, mouth slightly agape as he silently regarded the other man for several long moments, his mind struggling to catch up.

“He wished me dead?” He finally asked, noting the waver of his own voice and yet not entirely appalled by it. He could show weakness, here, in the company of his knight and no other. He did not mind Kylo seeing him so undone, so fragile, not when they were alone.

“He saw you as a weakness. I...disagreed, gave the girl what she needed to end his miserable existence.” It had seemed at the time, or at least shortly after when Hux had heard of the confrontation between the scavenger and the former Supreme Leader, that she had bested him rather too easily considering her rather limited skill at the time. She had improved since, that much was certain, yet a novice should not have been able to cut down one of the most powerful Force-users who had ever lived, regardless of how deep her pool of potential had been.

 _Two_ Force-users, though? Now that made much more sense.

Though even factoring in the added advantage of Kylo’s power and years of experience could not account for how _simple_ everything had been since then. The Resistance had not merely rolled over and accepted his rise to Emperor, but then none with any sense would have _expected_ them to. They were too proud for that, too stuck on their own ideals, and Hux would have lost all respect for General Organa if she _hadn’t_ put up something of a fight.

Rey’s inclusion in matters had simplified everything, where once he might have expected her to complicate them further. She had been open to discussion, willing to sit and listen and learn in a way that no others in the Resistance would, and it was her voice that swayed their opinion on him. Hux didn’t want domination, did not want war and machines capable of destroying an entire system in one blast. The title of Emperor meant nothing if there was no one left to preside over.

“You killed your old master for me?” He hadn’t known that, and something tugged, hard, at his heart. “I’d ask why, but if you feel half of what I do then I already know the answer.” They did not voice it, neither one had ever wished to, but it was there all the same, swirling between them. Hux had almost slipped, once or twice in the heat of the moment, but the deeply ingrained sensibilities had won out, in the end. He was cracking, though, breaking apart in the best possible way.

“You are my Emperor, that’s all the explanation you should need.” Kylo’s explanation was so simple, it rocked him to his very core. He wanted this man in his arms, in his bed, and he _had_ that, yet something still seemed to be missing. Hux ached, his mouth dry and heart thudding against his ribcage. 

“I wasn’t, not then.” Hux was trembling slightly, clenching his hands into fists to still the shake there, the whole thing just too _overwhelming._ It wasn’t Kylo, wasn’t this...confession, whatever it was, but he could focus on that, _blame_ that, keep his strength for when he faced the public who both adored and despised him.

“Not in name, perhaps.” Kylo replied, letting his response hang in the air for a moment, heavy and unrelenting. He seemed lost for a moment, floating in an expanse of blackness that threatened to tear him to pieces. Something passed behind his eyes, something he clearly could not comprehend, or perhaps did not wish to. With a jolt, Hux finally understood, realised the source of the ache when he gazed into the soulful eyes of his lover; they were the same. Kylo was just as lost as he was, perhaps more so. His master was dead, the death of his own father hung over his head and over his conscience, both at least in part by his own hand. Snoke had been Kylo’s guiding figure for longer than Hux could comprehend, if the shared night terrors were anything to go by, and without his constant presence in Ren’s mind the knight was struggling to find purpose.

He had thrown himself, mind body and soul, into protecting Hux and carrying out the will of their New Order. Because it was _their_ order, not _his_ , and Hux knew without the other man at his side he would have long since cast himself adrift. Without Kylo Ren, there was no New Order.

“I may be your Emperor.” Hux replied, with something approaching sincerity and a hint of terror that just barely carried over their connection. “But you are my heart.” He was moving, then, pulling Ren up from his position on the floor, dragging the man into his lap to wrap firm arms around his knight. Kylo hooked his legs effortlessly over the arm of the throne Hux so hated, scraping a little of the garish gold leaf away with his boot as he did so. His hands found Hux’s hair, the one thing that had never changed about the General-come-Emperor since their first meeting, tugging it free from the gel that had held it so neatly in place. Strong fingers gripped at the coppery strands, dragging his head back to expose the long, pale expanse of Hux’s neck. Soft lips trailed over the Emperor’s jaw, gentle enough to tease, then down his throat. Ren felt Hux swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the heady musk and spice that seemed ever-present. By the time he latched onto the sensitive skin beneath his lover’s ear, mouth a perfect circle as he sucked purpling bruises into the near-translucent skin, Hux was breathing heavily, eyes dilated and hands clenching then unclenching within Kylo’s robes.

“I’m not sure I would want that as my official title.” Ren hummed, lapping at the red wheel he had sucked against his lover’s skin. He seemed confident, more certain than he had only scant minutes before, yet Hux knew it was nothing more than an act. This was a familiar dance, one that had practiced over too many nights, though when the act had turned from desperate clawing need to a loving embrace neither could have said. Some time after the destruction of Starkiller, perhaps.

“You don’t wish to be Lord Ren, keeper of the Emperor’s heart?” Pleased for the shift in conversation, Hux moaned as Kylo shifted in his lap, hands skimming over the formal jacket he despised, the top three buttons unfastening themselves without having been touched. The Force was useful in some things, he thought, as Kylo kissed him hard, tongue dipping past his teeth to tangle with his own. He was gone too soon, dragging a low whine from Hux, ignoring the ache in his neck for now at the near-painful angle.

“I can think of a few rather more _inventive_ titles.” Images appeared, unbidden, within Hux’s mind as Kylo smirked down at him, barely a twitch of the lips. Crude, and it might have been amusing, if not for the way Ren’s need flowed through just as easily. One image in particular stood out, and Hux thought he might perhaps hate his throne a little less were Ren to indulge that little fantasy. He took hold of it, kept it, tugging against the hands that held his head in place so that it might be his turn to steal a long, searching kiss from his lover. He could feel the pulse of want in his own belly, hands sliding over the firm body in his lap, drinking down the low moan Kylo treated him to as Hux pressed down on the growing bulge in the knight’s pants.

“I am _terribly_ sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.” The over-large double doors to the throne room had been all but thrown open, and _really_ did they have to insist on manual doors? Men and women filtered in, faces Hux did not recognise, though he knew mercenaries when he saw them. Mask sliding neatly back into place, Hux tried his best to look every bit the regal Emperor, failing somewhat due to the series of blooming love bites upon his neck and his overall dishevelled appearance. He assumed the timing of their entry had been planned, and thus kept his hands looped around Kylo’s waist, ensuring his knight remained in his lap. He might have rolled his eyes at the theatrics, if not for the two dozen blaster rifles presently pointed at his head, and the decidedly cocky grin on the face of their leader.

“Apology accepted, to what do I owe the honour?” The man was short, at least by Hux’s standards, balding and perhaps a decade older than either Hux or Ren. His stature and portly belly spoke of a lifetime of indulgence, and Hux wondered if he had ever perhaps done an honest day’s work in his life. He was, at the very least, well dressed in some sort of faux military get-up. It looked smart, if rather impractical, and Hux was reminded again of his own wardrobe. He made a mental note to fire his tailor.

“If you would be so kind as to come with me, excellency? I’m rather hoping we can avoid bloodshed, if at all possible.” Clearly the man had no idea what he was dealing with, or perhaps entirely too much faith in those he had paid to get him there. Either way, not a single person in their little battalion was going to be walking out of that room alive. They might not have walked _in_ alive, either, if he hadn’t insisted that Phasma take at least some of the leave owed to her.

“This is a coup, I take it?” An assassination, more like, considering the number of weapons in the room far outnumbered those carrying them. They likely wished to make it public, whichever little group had decided he needed replacing, to ensure the public were well aware of the power they held and were less likely to challenge the resulting replacement. It was a sound strategy used over millennia, and yet on this occasion they were liable to be sorely disappointed.

“Call it what you wish, my liege, but kindly do hurry? I have rather more important things to attend to.” The man held far too much self confidence, manufactured by the guns at his back and the pistol at his hip. He was clearly well-bred, with a self-entitlement only those born to high-class families were truly capable of. Hux immediately despised him.

“Your orders, my Emperor?” How Ren managed to sound quite so menacing while splayed across Hux’s lap with kiss-swollen lips was anyone’s guess. Hux found that he rather _liked_ it though, a wicked grin splitting his features.

“We should greet our guests _properly,_ Lord Ren. They will learn the hospitality of our New Order.” He turned his attention back to the gathered crowd, expression shifting to one of pure malice and he felt the shudder run through Kylo’s form. “Whether they wish to or not.”

The screams echoed through the palace for no more than ten minutes perhaps, and while he would later have to publicly condemn such acts of wanton violence and show regret for the unfortunate loss of life of his would-be assassins, but for the moment he revelled in the chaos. This was General Hux, he thought, not the Emperor of the galaxy. Ren had been kind enough to cut a swathe through the gathered mercenaries, drawing their fire with ease as Hux took cover behind the reinforced throne, blaster in hand, taking shots whenever an opening presented itself.

He killed their leader himself, point blank between the eyes in an execution he might later be condemned for. He was angry at their gall, yet an excitement coursed through him, the likes of which he had not felt in too long. Ren’s lips were firm against his own, bloodied hands upon his back as he took from Hux that which they had been so cruelly denied, consuming his mouth with a violent passion over the still-cooling body.

“You want to go back to being a General.” Ren was panting, pupils blown and with an obvious arousal pressing against his hip. 

“I would love nothing more than to go back to being a General.” Hux sighed, resting his forehead against Kylo’s shoulder, their fingers tangling together as they waded through the sea of bodies together to find out what had become of Hux’s personal guard. He hated the confinement, the feeling of being trapped, and the surge of adrenaline that was still coursing through him only served to accentuate the loss of control he felt so acutely, reminding him of what he once had.

“You won’t, though.” Turning to look up at his knight, Hux regarded him for a long moment, pausing in the doorway while he considered, or seemingly considered.

“No. No, I won’t.”


End file.
